Blogging Broadway: Review of "All My Sons" and saying goodbye to "[title of show]"

John Lithgow, Dianne Wiest, Patrick Wilson, and Katie Holmes in All My Sons; photo by Joan Marcus

Unlike William Inge, Tennessee Williams, and other mid-20th century American playwrights of note, Arthur Miller gave us stage works that have very little to do with sex as their subject matter. So people who appreciate actor Patrick Wilson (Angels in America) largely for his hunkiness may have been a little disappointed to learn that Wilson was returning to Broadway in Miller’s All My Sons rather than, say, Inge’s Picnic or Williams’ Sweet Bird of Youth.

As it happens, Wilson (pictured below right courtesy of Getty Images/Andrew H. Walker) does have a shirtless scene (while clearing the remains of a downed tree) in Sons. But as Miller himself might have put it, “attention must be paid” to this production for its mostly excellent acting and skillful direction – and for the power of the play itself – rather than for the display of its handsome young star’s torso.

More after the jump!

Set in a suburban town shortly after the end of WWII, All My Sons is the tragic tale of Joe Keller (John Lithgow), who had been accused of knowingly selling defective airplane parts to the military during the war and thereby causing the deaths of 21 pilots. Joe was eventually exonerated and all the blame fell on his business partner, who was sent to prison.

The whole mess is stirred up again when George Deever (Christian Camargo), son of the prisoner, turns up at the Keller home after having visited his dad in jail for the first time. Matters are complicated by the fact that George’s sister Ann (Katie Holmes) had been engaged to Joe’s son Larry, who went missing in action during the war, but is now being courted by Larry’s brother Chris (Wilson) – much to the dismay of Ma Keller (Dianne Wiest).

Originally produced on Broadway in 1947, the play shows its age in some blatant symbolism, a certain amount of creaky dialogue, and a letter from beyond the grave that precipitates the final tragedy. But All My Sons remains powerful for its story of an all-too-human father not being able to live up to his sons’ idolization of him, as well as its treatment of one of Miller’s favorite themes: the difficulty of retaining one’s morality when faced with life’s many personal, professional, and political challenges.

Director Simon McBurney’s way of dealing with the play’s flaws is to present it in an aggressively non-realistic, highly theatrical style. The scenery consists of little more than a screen door, a wicker chair, and an expanse of lawn. Moments of fraught dialogue are accompanied by dramatic musical underscoring and/or film clips. The wings of the stage are not masked, and the actors are can be seen standing or sitting there as they prepare to make their entrances. The overall effect is that of a very dark version of Our Town, which may be exactly what McBurney was going for.

Katie Holmes and Patrick Wilson in All My Sons; photo by Joan Marcus

Against this, the cast performs in a mostly naturalistic style, with a few exceptions. Lithgow does some of the best work in his distinguished career as Joe, a basically decent man with feet of clay. Wiest, who seems incapable of ever giving a less than great performance, fully inhabits Kate Keller – the most complex character in the piece, by far. Though Wilson never seems quite so compelling on stage as he is on screen, Chris Keller is a good role for him, and he makes many intelligent choices in playing it.

On the downside: Although Holmes has some lovely moments as Ann Deever, she screams too many of her lines, which leads to her voice sounding alarmingly ragged. And in the role of her brother George, Camargo for some reason employs a disconcerting British accent. (While he has worked in London and has played classical roles on both sides of the pond, I’m almost positive that Camargo’s American, and his bio says that he trained at the HB Studio and at Juilliard. So I have no explanation for why his George Deever is a Brit.)

Simon McBurney’s All My Sons will no doubt upset lots of people who would have preferred a more straightforward production. But given that the play has received two traditional-style New York revivals within the past 20 years, there should be room for this radical, gripping new interpretation.

Bye-bye [title of show]

I’ve been feeling sad about the closing of [title of show], but really, there’s nothing to be sad about. In the space of about four years, this brilliantly funny and touching meta-musical went from its humble beginnings in the New York Musical Theatre Festival (NYMF) to an acclaimed, extended Off-Broadway run at the Vineyard Theatre to an engagement on Broadway, however brief the latter turned out to be.

The show would have been a welcome presence on Broadway if only for its wit and warmth, but there are two factors that make it extra-specially significant. First, this is a rare entertainment in that the gayness of its two central characters is presented as a given, with no need for frequent comment. Indeed, the book and lyrics of the show barely mention the love lives of co-authors/co-stars Jeff Bowen and Hunter Bell; [tos]distinguishes itself by exploring gay friendship rather than gay romance and sex.

Also, [tos] is something of a milestone in that Bowen and director Michael Berresse are open about the fact that they are life partners. True, they seemed to avoid acknowledging this offstage connection when the show was playing in the NYMF and later at the Vineyard. But they began to do so when it was really important, just as [tos] was preparing to open on Broadway, with all the attendant publicity.

So here’s to Berresse, Bowen, and Bell, co-stars Susan Blackwell and Heidi Blickenstaff, musical director Larry Pressgrove, lead producer Kevin McCollum, and everyone else involved. Their show certainly wasn’t everyone’s cup of tea, as is acknowledged by the lyrics of one of its best songs: “I’d rather be nine people’s favorite thing than 100 people’s ninth favorite thing.” But [tos]brought great joy to its loyal fans, and it does my heart good that it will always have the imprimatur of having played on Broadway, even if only for four months.